An Obsidian fic
by c.moonlight
Summary: A little expansion on how Kellen felt when he found out he was a knight. Sort of. An Obsidian fic.


**Summary-**** A random piece on Kellen and his angst.**

**Disclaimer-****I don't own the Obsidian Trilogy, Kellen, Jermayan, or anything like that. Promise.**

________________________________________________________________________

**Desperation - Smells Like Teen Spirit**

"_I know what you are …_

You are the laziest, slowest apprentice in all of the golden city. Have you purposely set out to shame your family name or is that just a bonus to you Master Tavadon?"

Kellen let out a small sigh. This is going to take a while, he thinks, settling into a comfortable position his chair, anticipating the long lecture that awaited him.

"To think the son of the Arch-Mage of Armethalieh, a student of the High Magick for three years, can't perform a spell a student of even six months could, without much trouble I might add!"

The day's lessons had been going badly or rather, Kellen thinks wryly, worse than usual. They, his tutor the Master Undermage Angriel and him, had been practicing a spell to harden air. An easy spell, one even a blind, moon-addled beggar would have been able to cast with a little instruction, simple, or so Angriel had said all the while smirking that irritatingly condescending smile of his. Well, Kellen thinks, a bell later and no closer to casting the spell than when he started, obviously not simple enough.

"You are the descendant of a hundred Arch-Mages, a hundred, and I think at this very moment they are _all_ turning in their graves in the face of your … indifference. Does this mean nothing to you?"

Kellen sighs once more knowing that Angriel didn't expect an answer, didn't want one really. They'd been at this same song and dance for three years. Angriel would introduce new spell, Kellen would fail repeatedly at casting said spell, Angriel would then lecture Kellen, insulting and demeaning him until he was satisfied his young charge had gotten the point. There was nothing for it but to sit there quietly until it was over. Answering any of Angriel's many rhetorical questions with a smart remark of his own would end in nothing but a longer lecture and possibly a complaint to his father on the disrespectful, ungrateful nature of his son. On any other day might not have minded or cared, indeed on a normal day he would have greatly enjoyed the chance to wipe the self-satisfaction that usually played across his tutor's delicate features from his face. Today however Kellen was far from in the mood and had no such desire to spend a second more in Angriel's presence than he had to.

"I think you enjoy the attention. Well, while it pains my heart greatly to inform you of this, being the only person in your year unable to cast even the simplest of spells does not make you special, Master Tavadon."

Is that what he thought, Kellen thinks, that he did this on purpose, that he enjoyed it? It took all of Kellen's self restraint in that moment to not strike the man with his workbook, right there and then, consequences be damned. How can one person be so blind, Kellen thinks angrily. His tutor though he didn't practice, he did nothing but practice and there in lied his problem. No matter how hard he studied, how long he practiced, his spells just _wouldn't start_. Kellen didn't understand why no one else could see it. Neither his father nor his tutor ever saw the hours on end Kellen spent studying, they only ever saw and never failed to comment on the lack of results. As if Kellen needed the constant reminder that he was a failure undeserving of his name, he knew it well enough without them throwing in his face every five minutes. He knew it in the deepest part of his soul with a conviction beyond words.

" I'm beginning to think it will cause you physical harm to do anything competent today so run along and play, boy. Do try and grow up just a little before our next appointment."

Picking up his workbooks one thought pushed its way to the forefront of his mind amidst all the others vying for predominance, he didn't belong here. Looking around at the Mage College's tall imposing columns and intricate fornication **(**arching, it's arching. The root word fornix means to arch**)**he knew it was true. He was an impostor whose clothes didn't quite fit. He was living a life that belonged to someone else and it was so obvious that reaching the threshold of the college he wouldn't be surprised if the _walls_ in all their towering, impersonal glory knew it. Oh well, he thinks later going over his notes for the day, I'll swing around market tomorrow, maybe I'll find something interesting.

****************************

"_I know what you are …"_

Kellen clutches his tankard with all the desperation of a drowning man holding on to a piece of wood, trying with all his strength to say afloat amidst the unforgiving sea. He clutches it with a grip that turns his fingers white because _he knows those words _though he wishes to the radiant light he didn't. Those words meant disappointment, inadequacy, and everything he thought he'd left, along with Armethalieh, behind him in the wake of the outlaw hunt. Those words meant failure and Kellen doesn't think _he can bear_ failing here and now before he's really begun to try. Those words meant he wasn't good enough, would never be good enough, no matter where he went or how he tried. Is it me?, Kellen despairs, Am I so unworthy that even out here among the elves everyone can tell? Am I going to be the pink elephant for the rest of my life?

"You're a Knight-Mage aren't you?"

As the words leave Jermayan's perfect lips a wave of relief washes over Kellen so intense that he feels a bit light headed afterward. As the elven knight explains further the feeling only increases, special, for once in his seventeen years Kellen Tavadon was_ special_, not a failure, not a disappointment, special. He could have kissed Jermayan if he didn't have the nagging suspicion Idalia would murder him then chop his body into tiny pieces if he did (y'know she would too). Kellen Tavadon, Knight-Mage, there was no denying, he thought giddily, it had a nice ring to it.

________________________________________________________________________

Poor Kellen, I empathize with him, I'm the perpetual odd man out. If you sympathize or empathize with Kellen, Read & Review (and even if you don't).


End file.
